SUSANNE MCCARTHY - Forsaking All Others

It was a pity Jeremy hadn’t taken his responsibility to the family seat more seriously. She had tried to persuade him often enough, but it had usually led to an argument—he preferred to spend his money on cars and parties and having a good time. The income from the land that went with the estate—farm tenancies, mostly—had barely been enough to support such an extravagant lifestyle even then. His own father’s death, a couple of years before she had met him, had already taken quite a toll in death duties—a second charge now, not much more than ten years later, could well prove to be the last straw.

Which could mean that there was no alternative but to sell the house, or hand it over to the National Trust—if they would take it. But she didn’t want to do that—coming back here had reminded her of how important Hadley Park was to her. It was more than just a house—much more…

Unconsciously she lifted her hand to touch the tiny gold locket she always wore at her throat. It was the only thing that had come out of the fire that had destroyed her own home and killed her parents. She had been just twelve years old, and had survived only because of the odd irony that she had been in hospital having her tonsils out.

In that one night her whole childhood—all her memories, every photograph, every toy she had had since she was a baby—had disappeared. Without a history, she had always felt a strange, lingering sense of detachment, as if she was somehow a loose thread in the fabric of the human race—left dangling, not properly woven in.

It was a feeling that had to some extent gone away with the birth of her son, but she had never forgotten it. And now that she was back here, in the house that had belonged to his Ratcliffe ancestors for so many generations, she remembered how determined she had been that he should know that he had a history—it was here, in these old stone walls and the deep, solid earth that they stood upon. This was his birthright, and she was going to hold on to it for him—no matter what it took.

But she was going to have to think of a way to generate sufficient income to keep it going, she mused wryly. And that would be no easy task. It was rather too small, and lacked the kudos of real aristocratic connections, to attract many visitors if it were opened to the public. And she had no desire to fill the gardens with wild animals or fairground attractions.

As she stood there, gazing absently out at the garden as it waited for the touch of spring to ripen the green buds of the daffodils that grew in wild profusion in all the flowerbeds, her mind slipped back to that encounter with Leo. Seeing him again had brought back so many memories. She had thought she had put all that behind her, but, like lumber in the attic, she had never sorted it out properly, and now that the door had been opened again it had all come tumbling out…

It had all happened so quickly that she had barely had time to think. Jeremy had proposed to her just three days after Saskia’s party, and now, less than two months later, here she was, walking up the aisle in a romantic dress of white lace, on the arm of Saskia’s father who had stood in for her own to give her away.

She had tried to persuade Jeremy to wait a little—after all, she was only nineteen, and he was barely twenty-one. But he had brushed all her protests aside, sweeping her along on the tide of his own impetuousness—it was hard to believe that all this was really happening.

And then she glanced up towards the altar, and saw the two men standing there—so very much alike to look at, so different in every other way…Her heart gave a sudden thud, almost taking her breath away. She hadn’t seen Leo since the night of the party—he had been away on business—but she knew that Jeremy had written to him and begged him to come home in time to be his best man.

She hadn’t been unduly worried about his return—had managed to convince herself that it had been no more than her imagination, that reaction she had felt the first time she had seen him. But here it was again—a thousand times stronger. Those deep-set, agate-coloured eyes met hers, and she felt as if her bones were melting.

But it was wrong—it shouldn’t be happening. She was in love with Jeremy…wasn’t she? Confusion swirled in her brain as she stared at the two of them: Jeremy, so boyishly handsome, his eyes alight with happiness as he waited for his bride—and Leo, a faintly cynical smile curving that firm, sensuous mouth, the arrogant set of his wide shoulders reminding her that the downside of all that magnetic male charisma was a personality that expected to have everything its own way.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t exactly a good moment to pause for a little calm reflection—her slight hesitation had been noticed, and everyone was looking at her with avid curiosity. She could hardly request a postponement of the wedding on the grounds that she wasn’t sure if she was marrying the right man. And besides, Leo was engaged to the girl who was today her own bridesmaid—an engagement sealed with an enormous diamond that must have cost a fortune.

Drawing in a deep, steadying breath, she forced herself to go on. As she drew to Jeremy’s side he smiled down at her, taking her hand warmly in his, and she told herself it would be all right—it was just a last-minute attack of nerves. But she was glad to be able to hide behind the heavy lace fall of her veil as the vicar began to welcome the congregation, all too acutely aware of the man at the very edge of her vision…as he had been at the edge of her mind for the past two months.

Perhaps it was just that Jeremy had spoken about him so much—he was obviously very fond of his older cousin, maybe even a little in awe of him. It had been Leo, the captain of the most successful rugby team in the history of the school, Leo who had got a First at Oxford, Leo who knew everything there was to know about computers…

And, after all, there had been nothing in his behaviour that first night to suggest that he had been struck in the same way she had—he had shown nothing beyond a mere friendly politeness towards his fiancee’s best friend. And though she knew that her slender height and long blonde hair attracted a lot of male attention—not always the kind of attention she liked—she was certainly not vain enough to suppose that the effect would be universal. She was just being stupid.

The vicar was reciting the vows, and she repeated them in a whisper. Jeremy squeezed her hand encouragingly, smiling down at her, and she realised with a small stab of guilt that he had completely misinterpreted the reason for her nervousness. But she meant what she was saying—she really did. “Forsaking all others…”

And then Leo stepped forward to hand Jeremy the ring, and though she tried with all the strength of her will to resist, she couldn’t help but lift her eyes to his—to find him watching her, his dark gaze seeming to see right into her soul. He knew—even behind the thick lace of her veil she couldn’t hide from him. He had never even touched her, and yet she belonged to him…

At last the ceremony was over, and they all crowded into the tiny vestry to sign the register. As soon as they were inside, Jeremy caught her round the waist and swung her around in a wild polka, bumping heedlessly into the table and the walls, culminating in a deep, steaming kiss.

“Hello, Mrs Ratcliffe!” he proclaimed as at last he let her go.

She laughed, breathless, her cheeks faintly tinged with pink; at least everyone would assume her blush was one of bridal modesty—except, perhaps, for Leo. But she couldn’t risk letting herself glance in his direction—better to try to pretend that he wasn’t there.

Saskia, pretty as a picture in her pink bridesmaid dress, hurried over to help her straighten her veil. “Oh, isn’t it wonderful!” she declared, her sapphire-blue eyes dancing as she kissed her cheek. “Now you’re really almost my sister, instead of just my best friend.”